What's Your Sign?
by squeakykiki
Summary: BB are hunting down a killer that chooses his victims in accordance with the signs of the Zodiac. I'm trying to be case orientated in this one! And descriptive. Descriptive is always good. BB fluff and friendship...and a bit of angst...I suck at summaries
1. Chapter 1

**Right, so this was my first serious attempt at actually writing a story with a case. I've posted it elsewhere but I'm not really sure how much folks are enjoying it so I'd love to see if people are interested and it might motivate me to continue.**

**Bones is not mine. I've asked, but they said no.**

Temperance Brennan leaned back from her desk and sighed heavily. Her back was burning from slouching over to peer at her computer screen for the past three hours.

Eyes bleary with tiredness, she gave them a quick rub with the backs of her hands. This only served to make her vision blurrier. She gave a wide yawn, one that stretched the skin around her mouth taut and even squeezed a few tear drops out of her narrowed eyes.

This should have been an adequate enough signal that it was time to go home. Of course similar signals had been making their presence known for the past hour and a half but the good doctor just wasn't taking the hint.

Grumbling nonsense to herself, Brennan leaned back into her chair. She let her head fall back and allowed her eyes to close. A brief rest couldn't hurt. She'd just take a break for a few minutes and then get back to work.

The Jeffersonian was eerie at night. The wide spaciousness of the Medico Legal Lab suddenly became saturated with dark corners and ambiguous shadows come nightfall. Of course, if Brennan chose to leave all of the main lights on this wouldn't happen…but for some reason she found the starkly lit lab devoid of people even creepier than when it was veiled in obscure mysteries.

Angela and Hodgins had long gone home. Zach had left with them after completing his notes on a body from limbo. Cam had stayed a little longer; she said she had paperwork to do. She had popped her head around Brennan's door about two hours ago and had subtly reminded her that everyone has to sleep sometime.

The team hadn't had much to do in the past fortnight. There had been no new cases. No Booth striding in and announcing those four magical words, "We've got a case." Or perhaps even the four words that were just as, if not slightly more, magical, "Bones, I need you." But, no. Nothing.

That still hadn't stopped the charismatic agent from dropping in on occasion. He always did this on the pretext that he wanted to see the squints, catch up on how everyone was doing, but the majority of time during these visits was spent talking to or watching Brennan. Occasionally these social calls had ended with Booth and Brennan arranging a lunch or dinner together.

This was always difficult to explain to Angela, who flitted around the place with a knowing smirk for hours afterwards, as whenever Brennan tried to reason that they were just partners, purely professional, Angela countered with the fact that, at present, they had nothing professional to talk about. Brennan was still working on a foolproof excuse to oppose this.

Poor Brennan never seemed to be able to just relax and take things easy. Angela, and secretly Booth, had both hoped that this free time would permit Brennan to abate her gruelling schedule. Unfortunately, the pull of Brennan's innate work ethic was far too strong. She had identified more bodies from limbo in the past two weeks than either had ever thought possible. While this was obviously beneficial, the constant pushing for answers was leaving its mark. Brennan was looking haggard and drawn. Sweeps of purple and red stained the area under her eyes and her skin was paler than normal.

When each day's work was finally completed, Brennan launched herself into countless hours of writing new material for her forthcoming novel. Angela was almost afraid to ask how many hours her friend had spent at home in the past fourteen days. She had a nasty feeling Brennan would be able to count them on a little over two hands.

Brennan suddenly jerked up at the sound of a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer within, the door was pushed open and Seeley Booth strode into her office. She blinked a number of times and briefly touched her hair before offering him a soft smile. His eyes twinkled at her and he took a few seconds, after he'd closed the door, to lean back against it and simply observe her.

"Sleeping on the job, Bones? Tut, tut."

He grinned widely when he saw her physically prickle with annoyance. Her eyes became quite cold and she began making many, rather complicated, excuses about how tired she was, how much work she'd been doing, how many cases she'd managed to solve, how this wasn't really her work time, it was after work hours, and, besides, what business was it of his anyway? If anything, her little rant only improved his mood. He really couldn't even express to himself, let alone aloud to anyone else, how much he missed her. It felt like a part of him was gone. Something fundamental and necessary deep inside of him yawned vacant and empty when she wasn't around.

She finally argued herself silent. She held his gaze defiantly, challenging him to make another comment. Booth wouldn't dare. He was also so captivated with her face that he didn't really think speech was possible. Her rage had sent a gentle pink bloom to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled with intensity. He couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he managed to get any work done at all when she was around. She was just so exceedingly distracting.

Brennan pursed her lips and inquired, "Well, Booth, what do you want?"

The playful expression on his face died almost instantly. Brennan didn't even realise that the sudden change in her partner's demeanour caused her stomach to flip-flop and her back to straighten to an almost painful rigidity. Neither ever seemed to comprehend just how well they understood the other and, if they ever did, they'd deny it vehemently.

Booth's tongue shot out and coated his suddenly dry lips with a layer of moisture before he answered, "We've got a problem."

Brennan rested her elbows on her desk and leaned forward, her eyebrows almost meeting over the bridge of her nose.

"Do you remember the last case I brought you, Bones?"

Brennan let out a little snort of disgust. To his due, Booth coloured slightly. Possibly not the best way to introduce this. Of course his Bones remembered. She remembered them all. They were all so important to her. She wanted so desperately to find justice for them, to name them and give them, if not their life, then at least their dignity back. He shuffled his feet sheepishly, eyes lowered. When he raised his face once more, Brennan gave a little nod to show she forgave his somewhat thoughtless comment.

"Yes, I do." Her voice was smooth, steady. Booth raised his eyebrows slightly, grateful for the peace offering.

"Yeah, well, this girl, Caroline Bradford, you know that she was killed when somebody slashed her throat…"

"The wounds were so deep as to nearly decapitate her. Her larynx, carotid artery and jugular vein were all severed."

Booth blinked. How, after all this time, did she still manage to amaze him with all that she managed to remember?

"Right. And…eh…even though we'd found the body, I couldn't take over the case because murder still isn't a federal offence."

He studiously avoided Brennan's eyes as he said this. He knew only too well how she felt about this little detail. The many heated arguments and the bruise on his right shoulder were testaments to her displeasure. He knew how he felt about it too. But rules were rules. The squints had identified the body and had given her back to her family. The murderer wasn't found, as that wasn't part of the Jeffersonian's job description.

"Well, murder isn't technically a federal crime…but extortion through the mail is. Earlier today the Bradford family, along with a local newspaper and an F.B.I. agent, received a letter taking credit for the murder…and threatening that more were forthcoming if demands weren't met. No demands were specified in the killer's writings which means we can only assume that another letter will be dispatched shortly…or that more people will first have to be killed to grab our attention."

Brennan's eyes were huge and her lips were slightly parted. She nodded once. Booth pressed his lips together and took this as a sign to continue.

"Cullen doesn't want to take any chances. He wants to find this guy as soon as possible and protect everyone from further harm and heartache."

Brennan bit her lip thoughtfully. She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up fetchingly as she did.

"Who was the agent?"

"That would be me."

Brennan's eyebrows looked set to delve into her hairline. Booth gave her a little apologetic smile along with a quick tilt of his head. Brennan returned the smile briefly before continuing.

"Ok…and, em, what do you want me to do?"

"Help me."

Brennan couldn't stop herself. Her incredulity made her stammer.

"Of course I'll help. You don't even have to…I mean…it's you…we're partners."

Her face flushed furiously. She suddenly felt raw, naked; as though she'd exposed something about herself she wasn't entirely sure she wanted him to know. Something she wasn't entirely sure she wanted herself to know. But the truth of the matter was, she'd do anything for Booth. Anything. And he would readily lay his career, his reputation, heck even his life, on the line for her, no questions asked. Silence permeated the room for a number of seconds as the two partners simply looked at each other. They knew the other couldn't put into words exactly how they felt, but they appreciated the unspoken sentiments all the same. Brennan let out a deep sigh and resumed the conversation.

"What exactly did the letter say?"

Booth frowned. He began to fidget slightly with something in his pocket.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat and we'll talk about it there?"

At Brennan's questioning look, he gave his stomach a sympathetic rub.

"I'm just really hungry."

She shrugged and began to turn off her computer. Booth bounced slightly on the balls of his feet as she gathered up her bag and jacket. He stepped forward and gave her a hand when she was pulling the jacket on. His touch lingered on the small of her back a second or two longer than necessary. Brennan shivered lightly at the prolonged contact. Somehow, even when she had layers of clothing on, this man managed to make her feel as though he was touching bare skin. It was a curious phenomenon, one that Brennan chose to enjoy for once and not over analyse. Possibly because she was afraid of what answers she might find.

Booth teased her gently over the lack of lighting in the lab, which quickly turned to annoyance when he managed to walk into the corner of a table. He spent the rest of the walk to the car and most of the journey in the vehicle tentatively rubbing his injured hip every few seconds. Brennan giggled at his antics but refused outright to offer any sympathy.

The two entered their often-frequented diner and chose a booth at the window. Brennan buried her head behind her menu, willing her cheeks to return to their normal colour after Booth had led her into the building with a warm hand once more placed on her lower back. After a minute of two, the partners ordered food and drink off a blonde teenager with shining eyes and a friendly mouth. Once the girl had left, Brennan began playing with the condiments on the table. A few seconds passed before she lifted her eyes to meet Booth's.

"So, tell me."

Booth leaned forward conspiratorially, his elbows firmly planted on the cold table.

"What do you know about the zodiac?"


	2. Chapter 2

**On we go...hopefully I might get a few more reviews for this one...thanks nane.**

**Bones does not belong to me.**

Brennan blinked rapidly.

"The zodiac?"

"You heard me, Bones. The zodiac."

He watched his partner take a deep breath. Oh dear. It looked as though she might know an awful lot about this particular subject. But then, it was Bones. Other than pop culture, there was very little she didn't have at least a minimal understanding of.

"The zodiac is a thin band of sky on either side of the ecliptic, which is the large circular shape the sun appears to trace in the sky when it moves against the stars. Our calendar mimics the movement of the sun around the zodiac so the cycle of twelve signs that the zodiac is divided into, each thirty degrees long, fall at roughly the same time every year. So the twelve signs, in some way, are like the twelve months of the calendar. This all means that the ecliptic is effectively and equally divided into twelve sections of celestial longitude, creating what is quite probably the first celestial coordinate system. The twelve physical thirty degree sections in the sky represent space, not time."

This time it was Booth's turn to blink. Which he did. Numerous times. Finally, he swallowed hard.

"What?"

Brennan huffed slightly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and seemed to retreat backwards into the seat, shaking her shoulders moodily. Booth hurriedly looked out of the window; if she was to catch sight of the smile currently spreading across his face, he was certain to get a kick in a very sensitive area. He heard his partner mutter something about how people shouldn't ask questions if they're not going to bother to listen to the answers. He sighed heavily and forced her to meet his gaze.

"I did listen, Bones. I always listen. I just didn't…not that I didn't understand…I was just more talking about, you know, the zodiac signs that people use when predicting horoscopes."

Brennan's expression was mutinous. Booth had almost whispered the word 'horoscopes' as he had a pretty good idea of how his partner would react. It didn't help though. Her disgust was more than evident.

"Horoscopes?"

She practically spat the word out. She rolled her tongue off the roof of her mouth, down behind her front teeth and ended with it partially stuck out of her slightly open mouth, as though the very idea of such a concept sickened her to her core. Booth shifted nervously.

"Yeah, Bones, you know…Taurus, Aries…"

She gave him a very haughty look.

"I'm aware of the names of them, Booth. They're the same as the names of the original ecliptic longitudes. Not a particularly original move on the part of astrologers. I just think the very idea of pretending to know how someone's life will play out based on the position of…"

Booth hurriedly waved his hands in front of her face. She spluttered on for a few more seconds, but, as every syllable she uttered was punctuated with a "Shh!" from Booth, she soon gave up. She retreated back against the seat once more, glowering furiously at him. Booth let out a little gasp. God, this was exhausting.

"I'm not saying I believe in them either, Bones, it's just that this case seems to be kind of irreversibly entwined with them."

He paused for a moment. Her shoulders remained hunched, but her expression softened slightly and she gave him a barely discernable nod. Taking this as permission, he continued.

"Anyway, as you've already said, the zodiac is divided into twelve different signs. With respect to the ones used when making horoscopes, they are each represented by a different picture and symbol."

"Yes, the word zodiac, translated from the Greek "zodiakos", literally means 'circle of little animals', which in modern terms is often taken to mean 'circle of life'. This correlates with the fact that the majority of the zodiac signs are either people or animals."

Booth nodded slowly before hesitantly replying, "Right."

Brennan let out a little murmur, shoulders slumping. She made a circling motion with her hand, indicating that she'd like him to continue.

"Em, well, the zodiac…ah…cycle starts with…" he quickly consulted a sheet of paper covered with barely legible scrawls that had evidently been hastily torn from a notepad, "Aries and ends with Pisces. Each of these signs is, apparently, influenced by a certain planet and corresponds to a particular element."

Brennan nodded politely. She was rather worried about the little bubbly feelings she was getting in the pit of her stomach at the idea of Booth conducting some quick research so that he would be able to explain the situation adequately to her.

"According to these horoscopes, the individual signs will mould and influence a person's behaviour and reactions because of the force exerted on them by the planets."

He decided not to push this any further as Brennan's brow was furrowing once more. There was only so far you could push the anthropologist before she snapped. And while he normally enjoyed seeing what really made her tick, this was neither the time nor the place. It would have to wait.

Brennan took a few steadying breaths to try and curb her annoyance. The very idea of horoscopes, of ludicrous predictions like that, went against everything she believed in. They could never be irrefutably proven or measured nor closely examined first hand. And the fact that some people tried to refer to it as a science… She growled softly to herself. She may have finally realised that she hated something just a little bit more than psychology. She was about to relay this little development to Booth when their food arrived. The pretty blonde girl quickly returned with their drinks, apologising profusely that she hadn't done so earlier. Booth flashed her a smile and told her that it was fine and that it really didn't bother them. The girl believed him, one hundred percent.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Booth was silent as he was stuffing his face with anything and everything on his plate and a couple of things from Brennan's plate also. Brennan was silent because she was smiling to herself, pleased to see that it wasn't only her who was affected by Booth's charm smile. Although, a very small, secret part of her was a little disappointed that it didn't just work on her alone. That it's powers of persuasion weren't just her unique weakness. She despised vulnerability…but when it came to Booth, a certain element of weakness was inevitable and, in most cases, necessary.

Eventually, Booth leaned back with a satisfied grunt. He felt completely and utterly sated. He cast a heavy-lidded glance at his partner. Brennan was slowly but steadily making her way through the plateful of food. She was more of a picker whereas he was most definitely a stuffer.

In between mouthfuls of lettuce, Brennan managed to gurgle, "So what has all of this got to do with the case?"

Booth rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together in front of his chin.

"Have you ever heard of the Zodiac Killer?"

"Sure. It's an unsolved case involving someone killing people in the sixties and sending taunting letters to the police and press up until…I'm not sure, some time in the seventies."

"That's right. Until 1974. Despite the fact that over twenty five hundred suspects were investigated, the forensic technology at the time wasn't sophisticated enough to convict anyone. The Killer first struck in October of 1966 in San Francisco. I'm going to call the Killer a 'he' just for ease of explanation."

Brennan nodded vehemently. "Most serial killers are white, middle-aged males who…" At Booth's slight clenching of his jaw she trailed off. "Sorry."

"Anyway, he killed an 18 year old girl by slashing her throat…in much the same way as our victim."

Brennan visibly perked up at this. He grinned at this; her attention was undeniably and truly piqued.

"About a month after the girl's death the Riverside Police and the Riverside Enterprise both received carbon copies of an anonymous letter entitled "The Confession". In this letter the Killer took credit for the girl's death and threatened that there would be more to come. The Killer then murdered a number of other people, frequently by shooting them, and sent numerous other letters to the authorities, often containing specific details that hadn't been leaked to the press. Instead of a signature, a few of his letters ended with a 'z' joined to a number '3'. He was never caught. Then, in 1990, there was a copycat killer in New York. He had sent a letter to the police the previous year beginning with the words "This is the Zodiac"."

Brennan shook her head a number of times. She took a few deep breaths and raised her eyes to meet Booth's.

"Right…so…you think we've got a copycat killer on our hands?"

Booth pursed his lips.

"Not exactly. I don't really understand it but our profilers seem to think that our guy respects, perhaps even idolises, the Zodiac Killer but is not necessarily copying him. He may even feel he is not worthy to mimic his actions. The profilers seem to think that he is imitating his hero's method in order to get us interested. Once he knows we're focusing on him, he may change his tactics completely. Which makes this whole thing very dangerous."

Brennan nodded slowly. Something was flickering behind her eyes that Booth couldn't comprehend. She pushed her lips together and moved her gaze to the tabletop. When she looked up once more, the evasive flickering had disappeared.

"Ok, well, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure. The copycat killer from 1990 seemed more interested in the actual zodiac signs than the original killer. I just don't know about this new guy. We'll have to wait and see."

Brennan chewed on the inside of her lip. They both knew, without Booth having to explicitly spell it out, that "wait and see" really meant, "wait until another victim dies".

Brennan sighed and laid her palms flat on the table.

"Tell me about this letter."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, I'm gonna move this into the T section as some peeps have suggested it. If anybody has a problem with this now or in chapters to come, please let me know and I'll move it.**

**Bones is not mine. Woe is me.**

Booth shoved the balls of his palms against his eyes. He left them pressed there for a minute before returning them back to the table.

Brennan's eyes were swimming with sympathy. The man looked drained. The hollows in his face were more pronounced than ever and he just looked…old. Old and tired. She wanted nothing more than to give him a hug.

Booth didn't seem to register his partner shaking her head incredulously at the strange, unbidden thoughts that were germinating in her brain.

"Ok, well, like I said, there were three identical letters sent out. The contents of the letter itself seem to be an accumulation of the kind of correspondence sent by both the original Zodiac Killer and the copycat in New York."

Brennan nodded once.

"O…k… What do you mean exactly?"

Booth ran a hand across his forehead a number of times.

"When the original Killer sent his first letter, it was anonymous as I said, and it contained a by-line followed by twelve underscores. Our letter has this also. It also contained the words "keep your sisters, daughters and wives off the streets and alleys". It referred to the killing as a "game" and threatened "beware…I am stalking your girls now." Our letter contains some form of paraphrase of these verbalisms."

Brennan raised an eyebrow, one of the corners of her mouth pulled irresistibly skyward.

"Verbalisms?"

"You're not the only one who gets to use big words you know."

She held her two hands out, palms facing him, in a gesture of peace. He couldn't help but laugh at the amusement that sparkled in her eyes.

"I love few things more than seeing you happy."

The words were out before he'd even realised he'd thought them. He was so shocked that he actually clamped a hand over his treacherous mouth, shaking his head wildly. Brennan squirmed uncomfortably.

"Booth…"

"I…look, I'm very tired. Let's just get back to the case."

Brennan nodded at the table.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really sure why, but Brennan's reactions to situations could be so different to other people's that it was nearly better to apologise, even when he felt that whatever he'd said or done wasn't enough to deserve an apology.

She started slightly.

"I…don't be. It's…thank you."

He refused to continue until she met his gaze. She eventually did and offered him a small, crooked smile. Booth shook his head slightly before resuming.

"Where was I? Oh, right… the letter also contains influences of the copycat killer, as previously stated. The copycat's first letter, the one that started with "This is the Zodiac", contained a circle with lines dividing it into sections. In this circle were the various zodiac signs. However, Virgo was missing and the Taurus section was obscured by the words, "The first sign is dead." It is unclear why Virgo hadn't been included. The words across the Taurus sign were never conclusively explained either. The first person the copycat attacked, who fortunately survived, was a Scorpio. No satisfactory demonstration of why these words were written was ever formulated and so this particular letter is often written off as a hoax. For the sake of our investigation, however, we're going to attribute it to the copycat."

He glanced up. The intensity of Brennan's gaze startled him.

Brennan herself realised that she must look rather eager and sat back, embarrassed. Booth looked so exhausted that she had edged further and further across the table, almost as though her proximity and undivided attention could help to abate his tiredness. She was also more than a little intrigued at the way he kept casually throwing rather 'big words' into his sentences. She was aware, however, that she must appear rather strange.

Booth wiggled his eyebrows.

"You alright there, Bones?"

"I'm fine, Booth." She muttered to her hands as she made something of a production of examining them on the table.

"You sure?"

The laughter in his voice irritated her. She hated feeling that people were making fun of her. Even if it was Booth. Who, somehow instinctively, she knew would never intentionally hurt her. She was also more than a little perturbed that he'd happen to catch her in a moment of somewhat intense vulnerability. This could have been the reason for the edge of stinging bite to her voice.

"Like I said, I'm fine. Right. So, you've told me about the copycat's letter. How does that tie in with what you received?"

Booth settled back against his seat. It was obvious that the teasing moment had passed. Being with Brennan was like being on a seesaw. As soon as your brain managed to grasp the fact that you were up, suddenly you were kicking dirt once more. It was all over in a split second and frankly it left him quite disorientated…and looking forward to when it would inevitably happen again.

"The letter we got mirrored this in some way. There was a circle drawn rather crudely in the top right hand corner. The circle was divided into twelve and all twelve zodiac sign names were contained in it, one in each section. Just over the letter's by-line were the words "The first sign is no more". At the end of the letter and to the left is written, "I've killed her"."

Brennan shivered involuntarily. Booth allowed himself a moment to give her a quick concerned glance before he completed what he had to say.

"The…interesting thing is, our killer seems to be referring, not to the Taurus of the copycat's letter but to the actual first sign of the zodiac, Aries."

Brennan's eyes bored into his own.

"We…we checked Caroline Bradford's birth date. She was born on March 29th…which makes her an Aries."

Brennan's gasp came like a whip crack. She had been expecting something like this. As soon as Booth had said that they'd checked the date, she'd known what was coming. But there was something about hearing it said aloud, actually putting the idea out there made it all the more horribly real. The words hung between them for almost a minute before Brennan was finally able to choke out, "So it's not random."

"No, it would seem not."

Brennan shifted uncomfortably. She felt wretched for thinking it…but a small part of her was a little relieved. It meant…it nearly meant that they couldn't have helped Caroline. That she was doomed before this had even begun.

Suddenly, unwanted but necessary, bile filled her mouth. How could she even think that? She was giving up before she was completely involved. They could have helped. Someone can always help…as long as they're aware. In this instance, they hadn't been aware. But that only meant that nothing could be done due to circumstantial hindrance. Nothing more. She examined her partner's hands spread out on the table. She was ashamed to meet his eyes. Booth would never give up. No matter what, he would always try. That was the very least any of them could do. Finally, she looked up at her partner's concerned face. Once more he had just saved her…and like countless times before, he wasn't even aware of it.

"Come on, Bones, I think it's time I got you home."

"I'm not a child that needs protecting."

"I like protecting. I'm good at it."

He leaned in and breathed into her ear as he once more helped her into her jacket, "Let me protect you."

Brennan reflexively closed her eyes at the shiver that began in the base of her spine and raced up her back, eventually fragmenting off into little tickly pulses across her skull.

Booth had used her distraction to his advantage and had quickly left some bills on the table. He placed a warm hand around her elbow and, in the wake of her surprise, propelled her towards the door before she realised what was happening. Before she knew it, she was standing out in the car park.

"What…?"

She glanced quickly around her, trying to catch her bearings. Realisation struck like a blow to the head.

"That wasn't very nice."

Chuckling, Booth gently pushed her into the car.

"Booth!"

He climbed in himself and shut his door. He strapped himself in and put the keys in the ignition. Stealing a quick glance at his partner, he grinned. Brennan was sitting with her arms crossed obstinately in front of her, refusing to buckle up.

"Come on, Bones. It's the law."

She turned her head away from him childishly and refused to acknowledge him.

"You're mean."

He snorted.

"And you are, apparently, six."

She snapped her head around and glared icily at him. Unconcerned, he indicated silently that she do as he asked. She raised her chin and shook her head.

"You're…"

She didn't get a chance to finish before Booth leaned around her to grab the seat belt himself. His breath was like fire against her neck and his hands as he pulled the strap across her body were like molten. During the few seconds it took him, lingering at her hip, to strap the buckle securely in place, Brennan was sure she must have melted.

"Hot."

Booth's eyes widened in amazement.

"What?"

"You're…you're warm. I said you're warm."

The remainder of the journey to Brennan's apartment was completed in silence. Brennan, for her part, stared unwaveringly out of the passenger side window. Booth's cheeks were in an extraordinary amount of pain as he hadn't been able to fully wipe away his smile. He quickly sobered up when he pulled to a stop in front of the building. So far his kick-free days were at an all time high of one and he was eager to see if he could beat that record.

Brennan turned to look at him, her expression slightly sheepish but focused.

"Thanks, Booth."

"No problem, Bones."

She unbuckled and shuffled out of the vehicle. Before closing the door, she popped her head back in.

"And…thanks for protecting me, Booth."

The corners of his mouth upturned and the skin beside his eyes crinkled.

"Anytime, Bones. Anytime."


	4. Chapter 4

**On we go...this was a bit of filler really. Thanks so much to all who reviewed or simply read. It means so much to me. Thank you.**

**Nope, still not mine. Maybe someday...**

Three hours later the moonlight found Brennan sitting in quiet repose on her couch. One foot was drawn up under her still form while the other rested just in front of it, toes curling over the furniture's edge. Her knee was elevated and her chin was resting heavily on top of it. Her face was sombre, her eyes, inscrutable.

Her left hand was raised and was pulling, almost reflexively, on the strings of her pyjama top. Her right arm curled defensively around her upright leg.

She couldn't sleep. A rather unlikely conclusion to come to when finding someone sitting alone in an attitude such as this at half two in the morning, but that was the truth. Not that this was a particularly new development for the scientist. She often spent more hours awake than asleep. That was just her way.

It had begun in childhood, after her parents had left. She would be fearful to drift off in case they would return, if only for a few minutes. Her greatest worry was that they would find her but be unwilling to disturb her slumber and so would have to leave once more before she so much as set eyes on them. The habit persevered.

As she got older, her mind became more and more intensely occupied with her work. Not that she ever truly overcame her, she liked to think, irrational fear about her parents, it just seemed easier to disregard with the hindsight maturity bestowed upon her.

For years she had spent her sleepless hours conducting research, reviewing case studies, writing reports that weren't due for weeks…anything really. Her mind had a thirst for knowledge that never seemed to be completely quenched; her personality was one that strongly upheld the opinion that unproductive activity was one of the most useless exercises a person could engage in. She strove to fill her actions and conversations, even her thoughts, with purpose.

Seeley Booth had changed this. Almost from the day they had been partnered together, she had felt uncomfortable when she reached for a book or looked over complicated papers in the ungodly hours of the morning. It made her feel guilty, nervous and for some inane reason, disloyal. She knew that he would disapprove. Heck, he often disapproved of working past five. The idea of what his face would look like if he ever happened upon her doing something as strenuous as working when most sane people were asleep was enough to draw an unbidden chuckle from her lips.

And so, unknowingly, he had changed her nighttime patterns. Indeed, it had taken her many months to realise that it was he who had altered this long established ritual. Another four months were needed before she could finally admit it to herself.

She now found herself content to simply sit and think. Sure, her mind often probed the intricacies of certain cases or pondered how a particular body from limbo may have died. Sometimes she would engage in hours of speculation of how to phrase a specific paragraph for a new book so that the words would blend together seamlessly and would have a flow like the smoothness of progressive thought.

More recently, however, increasing amounts of her time were spent thinking of him. Of course, she rationalised with herself that this was simply musings over cases but however hard she tried to explain it, there was no two ways around it. Her partner was occupying her thoughts more than anything else. Naturally at work, barring a few indulgent seconds, sometimes even minutes, her thoughts were strictly professional. But at night… She could lose whole half hours in the reminiscing of a curl of his lips, the set of his jaw, a twinkle in his eyes or a lingering touch against her person. All of this, she knew, was completely normal behaviour between partners and so she didn't lend excessive amounts of time to worrying about it. Even so, she still wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone. Just in case.

Tonight there was another reason keeping her dreams at bay. This case. This killer. Naturally, every new case that Booth came to her with presented it's own complications and tribulations…but they rarely scared her. Yes, Temperance Brennan was frightened. Many things contributed to this fear: her worry that they mightn't catch whoever it was before he struck again, the possibility that he may never be caught, the unrelenting certainty that he would strike again…and then, simply, him. Not that she felt she was in danger from the point of view of becoming one of his astrologically determined victims. No, it was more the veiled threat that she might be in a vulnerable position as she moved to bring him to justice. This unsettled her greatly and caused one of her legs to bounce helplessly with nervous energy.

She forced these thoughts from her mind with great effort. Her gaze fell on the figurine of a pig Booth had given her. Jasper. All of the memories of the countless times Booth had been there for her came crashing down around her. Whether professionally or personally, Booth was always by her side, ready to bear the weight of whatever unwanted event befell her. Finally, she had found someone she could depend on unconditionally.

Encouraged, she stretched a hand out and took the little pig in between her forefinger and thumb. She held it close to her eye and examined it. Shifting the focus to this type of distraction helped to calm her racing heart and remove the goosebumps that had coated her skin.

She would be fine. Booth would be there to support and protect her, come what may. Finally, she drifted into a deep sleep. When the morning light streamed through the windows, it was to find Dr. Brennan curled up on her couch, far away in dreamland; a hand tightly closed around the figurine, an assured and happy smile on her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much to anyone who reviewed...or just simply read. Means the world to me. Now, I've no idea what star signs B&B actually are...so I just went with the ones that seemed to suit them best. Hope nobody minds.**

**Bones isn't mine. They won't even accept chocolate bribes. Not even chocolate. They have nerves of steel I tells ya! Of steel!**

Nine o' clock that same morning saw Brennan sitting at her desk, a pen gripped between her teeth, her narrowed eyes peering at her computer screen. Zodiac, horoscopes…her head was swimming with what she considered to be the most useless facts imaginable. Who was some crackpot with an imaginative name like Mystic Margaret to tell her what she should and shouldn't do today? Or any other day for that matter.

A small knock on her door shook her from her reverie.

"Hey, sweetie, what you up to?"

Angela's figure filled the doorway, her head tilted slightly to the side and resting on the doorframe.

Brennan let out a frustrated growl.

"I'm trying to research horoscopes…but it's useless! I just keep being told that I should shy from confrontation today, that I will find unexpected wealth or that someone special is going to put a plane ticket in my hand. They're not even remotely consistent."

"Sweetie, when did researching horoscopes translate into reading your own dose of destiny?"

Brennan flushed, wrenching the pen from her mouth to start tapping it frantically off the desk.

"No, it's just…I…I thought it would be useful and…"

"Just admit it, you were curious!"

Brennan sat back with a sigh.

"Curious about nothing! This is ridiculous."

Angela strode across the room, reaching Brennan's desk before she had even finished speaking. Brennan was blinking so much in surprise at her friend's speed that she offered no resistance when Angela reached around her and began tapping keys frantically on the keyboard.

"Ok, you're going about this all wrong…here we go…"

Brennan sat up straighter and stared at the screen.

"How come I couldn't find that?"

"You have to know where to look."

"Please don't tell me you believe this stuff, Angela."

The artist paused delicately for a number of seconds before replying, "Not believe, per se, but I don't think there's any harm in checking what they have to say."

"On a daily basis?"

"Perhaps."

Brennan shook her head in disbelief, but a smile was tugging irresistibly on her lips and Angela knew her mannerisms far too well to take any kind of offence.

"Ok, now, if you want this to have any kind of significance for you, I suggest you stop looking at daily predictions and simply read specifics about your individual sign. You're Aquarius, right?"

"Apparently."

"Ok then."

Angela clicked on a number of icons. The two women leaned in closer, heads almost touching, to read what made up Temperance Brennan. After a few seconds, Angela began to giggle hysterically, complete with overjoyed clapping.

"Look, Brennan, look! Do you see in the "Perfect Match" section? One of the signs is Gemini. Unless I'm very much mistaken Booth is…"

"What's that you're saying about me, Angela?"

The two women's heads snapped up to focus on the doorway. Booth stood there in a dark suit that perfectly emphasised the intensity of his eyes. A curious, if slightly apprehensive smile, was fixed on his face.

Angela waved him over delightedly.

"Come on, Booth, we're reading all about Brennan's star sign."

Booth hurried over, smoothing his tie as he did. Both he and Angela either didn't see, or chose to ignore, Brennan's uncomfortable shifting in her seat. She was slightly taken aback by the website's revelation that she and Booth were a compatible romantic match. Not that she held any kind of credence in these far-fetched assumptions…but there was something about seeing it written down, and from the hand of an unbiased commentator, that was making the pulse in her throat throb uncomfortably.

"Oh, wow, sweetie, they've got you to a t…look at this, "possess a quick intellect and an expansive mind", "forever dazzling friends" with your insane knowledge."

"That's my Bones." Booth said proudly, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. Brennan forgot to breathe momentarily at the unexpected contact.

After a few seconds, Angela clicked some more, muttering about "getting to the good stuff". Moments later, she was happily exclaiming about exploring Brennan's love ideals.

"Ooh, look Brennan, "mental fireworks are the sexiest" and "they are captivated by a lover who shares their quest for a better world"."

Angela began elbowing Booth knowingly in the ribs. To his credit, Booth began muttering about how he had no idea of what she was referring to, accompanied by excessive running of his fingers through his rapidly flattening hair.

""The greatest challenge in love for the Water Bearer is intimacy"…sounds like you, Bones."

Brennan huffed. "I do _not_ have intimacy issues." Angela and Booth exchanged glances over the quivering doctor's head but decided it was safer not to comment. Booth reflexively moved his hands down below his belt buckle. It never hurt to have a little extra protection when his partner was around.

"Did you see this, Brennan? "A lover who can help the Water Bearer get in touch with their innermost feelings and teach them to put the analysing aside will tap into a torrent of emotion waiting to be released". I think I know the perfect guy for the job..."

Neither Booth nor Brennan knew how to respond to this save a number of incoherent splutterings. Angela used this to her advantage and pressed on.

"Ok, wow. Now this is scary: "But once they decide that someone is worthy of their friendship or love, they can exert an almost hypnotic and irresistible mental attraction on them and will themselves become tenacious friends or lovers, ready to sacrifice everything for their partners and be faithful to them for life." That remind you of anyone? Hmm…let me think…"

Not really knowing how else to respond, Booth let out a somewhat hysterical burst of high-pitched laughter. Both women stared at him for a number of seconds before Brennan forcefully pushed Angela's hands off the keyboard.

"Fine. You think that's so funny, let's see what your star sign says."

Booth let out an unconcerned snort but Angela couldn't help him notice suddenly begin to jingle his keys in his pocket. He touched his tongue off his top lip for a moment, saw her watching, hurriedly gave her an amused grin, then returned his tongue to it's previous position.

Brennan brought the appropriate page up with a flourish.

"Here we go...Gemini…"

"Hmm…go Booth…"Inventive, quick-witted and fun"…that sounds about right."

"Thanks, Angela."

Booth flashed one of his famous smiles. Brennan was somewhat relieved to see that it wasn't his biggest and brightest. That one, it seemed, he reserved for her and she was eager to see it stay that way.

""A devil in the bedroom"? Ooh, you _go,_ tiger."

Before Booth had a chance to respond, Brennan almost deafened him by loudly faux whispering to Angela that "Booth doesn't like to talk about sex."

Angela arched an eyebrow.

"You try to start that conversation a lot? Booth, is she harassing you?"

Booth responded by clearing his throat an excessive amount but didn't actually say anything.

"Oh, would you look at that; Gemini "seek a partner who is mentally stimulating and, once they've found them, sparks will definitely fly"."

She looked delightedly around at the flushing partners.

"Very interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Angela quickly came to the conclusion, encouraged by their lack of response, that this mine of opportunity had wedged itself shut. However, just before she closed the window, she noticed something that made her gasp aloud, something that she absolutely couldn't resist commenting on.

"Don't worry, Booth, apparently they've got your perfect woman all sorted. See, "At the end of the day, the ideal Gemini soul mate has a Ph.D., and is a world traveller with countless tales to tell". Now, if only we could find you someone who fit those criteria…"

"Ok, you know what, joke's over. Very funny and all, but we've got a case to solve Angela and…hang on."

Angela and Brennan both glanced at him, Angela having to do so over her shoulder as she had leaned forward to exit the website.

"Scroll down again."

Eyebrows raised, she did as requested.

"There! It gives you birth stones, flowers and days all to do with your sign…"

The two women couldn't wrench their gaze from his face. He was working his jaw furiously, his brow furrowed.

"Can you bring up the same information for Aries?"

"Sure."

The tension was palpable as Angela found the required details. Neither of the women knew what Booth was getting at…but knowing him as they did, they were certain it would be anything but insignificant.

"There! There!"

Booth pointed energetically at the screen. He began mouthing the words before him, completely incomprehensible to his mystified audience.

"My God."

"What? _What_?"

Brennan's eyebrows were almost touching as she glared at the screen. She began to tug on Booth's sleeve; few things annoyed her more than being out of the loop.

Booth raised a hand to his face. He pressed it against his closed eyes for about thirty seconds before responding.

"The letter I got claimed that he had killed Caroline on the 25th, which, if I'm not very much mistaken, is a Tuesday. When we found her body, she was wearing a silver necklace adorned with a large ruby. Her family found this strange as they said she rarely accessorised with jewellery. They just assumed it was a recent gift that they hadn't yet seen."

Angela sucked in her breath rather audibly.

"He…he planned it down to the _day_? That's just…and then he planted a necklace on her? Did you guys check it for fingerprints?"

Booth nodded mutely.

"Yeah, when her family made the point about her normal lack of jewellery, we ran it for prints. Nothing. Came up clean. Then they, I suppose consumed by the enormity of the situation, decreased their curiosity over the mystery necklace. And it wasn't exactly our case, so…"

Angela bit down hard on her lip. Brennan could see the area around her clamped down teeth grow pale with the intensity of the pressure she was exerting.

There was a beat or two or silence before Booth managed to croak, "That's not all. We found her in a park. Partially covered by, and lying on, thistles." He tapped the computer screen for emphasis.

"Man," Angela exhaled slowly, "this guy is _good_."

"Yeah?" questioned Booth. His face was set with an expression of unwavering resolve. He strode purposely towards the door, pulling Brennan with him. For once, she didn't object. Before exiting, he turned back to Angela, his eyes cold and his stance tense.

"Well, we're better."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and especially to those who took the time to review. You're all marvellous!**

**Bones is not mine. But it should be.**

"Once again, we're so sorry for your loss."

Mrs. Bradford nodded in acknowledgement of Booth's declaration of sympathy. It was very clear, though, that she couldn't see him. Sure, she was looking at him. But she didn't see him. For the rest of her days she would never truly see anybody. She would always be looking beyond the person before her, endlessly searching, her eyes and vision irreversibly clouded and obscured by the shadow of her lost child. A child who would never be able to find her way home.

"I…"

The woman raised a hand to her forehead then lowered it to cover her mouth. Her eyes travelled to the floor. She opened her mouth and left it slackened, unable to find the words. Suddenly, emotion overcame her and she covered the entirety of her face with her hands. Sobs racked her body, her shoulders convulsing with the strength of her grief. Her husband moved to stand behind her, raising a hand to rest firmly on her shoulder. Mind, body and soul were too saturated with loss to recognise the gesture.

Brennan and Booth stood mutely, knowing there was nothing they, or anyone else, could possibly say.

Eventually, breathless words could be heard through the heartbroken cries.

"No parent should ever have to bury a child…"

It was time to go.

The two silently let themselves out. At the doorway, the partners glanced back at the motionless couple. After observing them for a number of seconds, as though this could somehow ease the pain, they shut the door behind them.

Booth was overwhelmed by the vitality and vibrance surrounding them as they made their way back to the car. It seemed incredible that life could continue on out here, unchanged, when it had been so brutally altered within that house. It made him more determined than ever to bring this monster down. They silently settled themselves into the SUV.

Brennan noticed the set in her partner's jaw and the steely glint in his eye. She mightn't know much about reading people, living people anyway, but she was learning. Oh boy, was she ever learning. Of course, she had a very good teacher.

She smiled to herself. Impulsively, she glanced over at Booth. His face had softened somewhat but the unwavering resolution still burned within his gaze. Out of his peripheral vision he could make out a pale, roughly oval, shape pointed in his direction and knew his partner must be looking at him. He glanced over quickly and then returned his eyes to the road.

Her cheeks instantly flushed at being caught examining him. He had noticed the smile gently curving her lips.

"What?"

"Nothing."

This time it was his turn to examine her. Luckily, they were currently stopped in traffic.

"What were you smiling at?"

"I…"

She ducked her head slightly, the smile widening.

"I wasn't smiling."

"You just…right now…you can't deny…I can _see_…_Bones_!"

She couldn't help laughing at his spluttering response.

"That was just too easy."

He mock glared at her in astonishment. Suddenly, he reached a hand over and childishly slapped her arm.

Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. Luckily, the corners of her lips were pulled upwards. He was safe. She was taking this as a joke.

Brennan moved her hand to retaliate against his person. He was too quick for her and caught her wrist in mid-air. The two locked gazes, each refusing to back down, engaging in an unrelenting battle of perseverance.

After a number of seconds, an entirely new reason became their sole priority for remaining oblivious to everything else. They became lost in the other's eyes. Brennan could feel her heart rate quicken uncomfortably. If Booth weren't so drawn to the startling blue of her eyes he would have been unable to stop his gaze from dropping, however briefly, to her lips.

Just as Booth was deciding that he was going to go for it and lean in to kiss her, the mood was shattered by the blare of car horns. The two visibly jumped, Booth releasing her wrist as though it scalded him, and settled back into their seats, unconsciously turning towards their respective windows. It appeared that Booth had been so distracted by his captivating partner that he hadn't noticed the traffic begin to move. There was now a significant distance between their car and the one in front of them and other motorists were making their chagrin about this audibly known.

Both laughed nervously. Luckily, there were given an excuse to avoid addressing the embarrassing incident in the ringing of Brennan's phone. She smiled apologetically at her partner's profile before shaking her hair away from her ears and answering the call.

"Brennan."

"Hey, Sweetie."

"Angela." Brennan relaxed into her seat, crossing her legs as she did.

"I was just wondering where you and Booth ran off to. You guys seemed in such a hurry. No doubt it was very important…and intense…"

Brennan could feel her cheeks getting warm and she turned even further towards the window until her back was almost at a right angle to Booth's profile. She raised a hand to partially cover her mouth, as though this would muffle her words in the very silent car.

"How many times…Angela, Booth and I aren't interested in each other like that…we're just partners…"

There was a silence.

"Ok, sweetie, I was actually thinking that wherever you'd gone must have had something to do with the case…and that THAT would be intense…but I LOVE how quickly your mind jumped to other, much dirtier, conclusions."

"Oh."

Brennan squirmed uncomfortably. She chanced a quick peek at Booth. She didn't think Angela was talking particularly loudly…but in a car this quiet, and with little in the line of distraction, it's surprising what people could hear. Booth didn't seem to showing any reaction to the little exchange, but Brennan couldn't shake the feeling that he had heard what had transgressed. His lips seemed a little too tightly pressed together.

"We…we went to ask Caroline's parents about the necklace, but they couldn't tell us anything."

"Right. Are you coming back here now?"

"Yeah, we're in the car. Shouldn't be much longer. Traffic is very heavy, though."

"Ok, well I'll see you when I see you."

Brennan blinked.

"Obviously."

"Bye, sweetie."

Brennan hung up.

"That was Angela."

"I got that."

The next few minutes were spent in silence, occasionally broken by Booth's sporadic tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

"So…what was it you and Angela were talking about concerning our interest in each other?"

Brennan had just begun making a little clucking noise when Booth's phone trilled. He held up a hand to silence her before she started.

"Booth."

He nodded. His brow furrowed. Brennan watched worriedly as his knuckles turned white with the force he was using to grip the wheel and the phone.

He terminated the call with a curt, "Bye." He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"We're making a slight detour, Bones."

Fear fluttered in her stomach.

"Why?" She could barely get the word out, her mouth was suddenly so dry.

"We've got another body. Complete with letter."


	7. Chapter 7

**Agh, I'm a terrible, awful, lousy updater I know! And I apologize most sincerely!**

**I don't own Bones...certain characters would be smacking lips a lot more often if I did...**

Later that night, Brennan sat at her desk studiously signing off on some mandatory paperwork. This was taking an awful lot longer than it should have as her focus refused to remain static on the job at hand. Thoughts of this latest case were flitting around aimlessly in her turbulent mind. Every now and again they would all surge together and fight for dominance, leaving the doctor slightly cross-eyed and more than a little breathless.

The latest victim had been female, early twenties. Brennan was trying desperately to focus on the high cheekbones, little nose and overall delicate bone structure of the deceased victim, all indicators of the girl's prettiness, if not even beauty. This made it so much harder, however, when her memory cruelly tortured her with images of a six-inch long gash cut across the throat, deep enough to slash into the vertebrae. Of the scraps of cloth still clinging desperately to the body's surface, the majority of which, on the upper area of the body at least, were stained a burnt brown colour from the masses of blood that had saturated them. Of the hands…the hands still clenched in a physical manifestation of the torturous agony endured by the victim before she was finally allowed to die.

Was it really easier to think of her as the victim? For one thing, it almost completely dehumanised her. This had always been Brennan's main objective when dealing with bodies, but there had recently been a shift in her stance on this particular method and she was no longer sure if this was the right course of action to take. Deep down, somewhere suppressed in her consciousness, she knew that this new uncertainty was brought about by her relationship with Booth.

Before becoming partners with him, she only ever dealt with the bones. The brittle, informative architecture that made up every human being. Only, it was always uncomfortably easy to forget that these objects on her table were once concealed beneath the skin of a living, breathing person. A person, who laughed, cried, sang, jumped, spoke, thought, shouted, worried and loved. It had been so much easier not to think of these aspects before Booth. Of course, it had been a lot easier not to think of many things before Booth. He had opened her up to so many new experiences and ideas, had ignited a passion for justice in her that she never could have guessed was hiding dormant inside, just waiting for that perfect spark… He had also, somehow, managed to kindle the embers of another fiery passion… But now was not the time to be dwelling on such thoughts.

Brennan sighed heavily and flicked her hair impatiently out of her face. The second reason she no longer liked to refer to bodies as victims was because it made them sound so helpless. Naturally, she was always aware of the struggles someone must have gone through as she examined their bones. But now, when she, with Booth, became acquainted with the person's family, had a visual of the space they inhabited, the job they might have had, the hopes and dreams they were chasing…calling them a 'victim' often seemed like an insult to their memory, to their indomitable, resilient spirit to survive, if not simply their fatal attack, then simply their life. The world was a difficult, unfriendly place to inhabit and to attribute someone's persistence to last as long as they had to victimisation was just inexcusable. The rational, empirical scientist bubbling inside of her was appalled at her emotions getting so up in arms over a simple label…but her more…human side was still horrified.

She ran her fingers firmly over her eyebrows, trying to alleviate the beginning prickle of a headache that was currently making its presence known. Her mind wandered to the new letter and the prickles became more like fiery stabs. The envelope had been lying on the…victim's stomach. Blood stains mottled the surface and the words, "For the eyes of Agent Booth" were scrawled across the front. The letters were so malformed it almost looked as though the author had written them with his non-writing hand. Booth's lips had almost disappeared inside his mouth when he first read the addressee on the envelope. Brennan hated the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, the killer seemed to be targeting her partner. Not that she'd wish this kind of attention on anybody else…but Booth cared so much. He cared for the victims, their families, friends, co-workers…everyone. She wondered if the killer knew that this was one of the cruellest ways to target Booth: direct the correspondence to him and then watch him destroy himself with guilt that another person was dead, presumably, on "his watch".

The letter itself hadn't been overly informative. It was less of a letter and more a couple of hastily scribbled lines. The top half of the sheet of paper was dominated by a large circle, divided into twelve sections, each section with the name of a zodiac sign written inside it, in chronological order. The Aries and Taurus signs had a thick red line drawn through them, obscuring the names. Above the circle, almost as an afterthought, were the words, "Two down…" The body of the text, if it could even be called that, consisted of three of the most disturbing lines Brennan had ever read: "This one was a screamer. She cried for her mother. Too bad you couldn't save her."

Upon her first perusal of the letter's message, Brennan was sure she was having a heart attack. Her chest hurt with the intense slamming of the organ inside of it and she went cold all over. It just wasn't fair. Even though she and all of the agents had told him it wasn't his fault and all of the squints had made reference to it in the lab and Booth himself knew he couldn't have prevented it, she still knew he would half kill himself with guilt.

There was a knock on her door. She waved a hand in front of her face, as though this might dissipate the fog of anxious thoughts currently surrounding her person. Without waiting for a reply, Booth pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

The two silently examined the other, trying to calculate the damage done. He raised his eyebrows at her, attempting to coax her into evaluating her current state of mind. She responded by jutting her chin upward.

He admitted defeat by deciding to talk first. He growled low in his throat, just to make her aware that he wasn't happy about doing so.

"Papers have got hold of the whole thing. They're making it out to be some kind of gruesome freak-show. Snivelling quotes from supposed friends and acquaintances nestled in with horrifically detailed descriptions of the crime scene and the damage inflicted…"

His voice trailed off. He rolled his head around a number of times, trying to regain control.

Brennan broke the stifling silence by whispering, "I'm sorry, Booth."

He looked up and focused his eyes on the wall behind her. He shifted his weight for a couple of seconds before croaking a response.

"There are few things as personal as someone's death…"

"Their life?" Brennan offered, locking her gaze with his.

Booth blinked rapidly a couple of times and gave her a rather lopsided smile.

"Getting philosophical on me, are you, Bones?"

She shrugged and clarified, "Well, maybe not their entire life, but certainly their more intimate moments…"

He shivered reflexively at her choice of words. She caught the move and raised her eyebrows enquiringly, head tipped slightly to one side.

"Intimate…" he breathed, his voice taking on a hoarse and ragged quality.

She could feel the blood rushing to her face and ducked her head shyly.

"Maybe not the best choice of words…"

"I think it was the perfect choice of words."

She slowly brought her eyes up to his level. The soft lighting from the lamp and the delicate rosy glow currently staining her cheeks made her look breathtaking. Booth was stunned anew at her natural and unassuming beauty.

"You…eh…you wanna go get some coffee?"

He didn't even have to think about it. A grin suddenly lit up his face and he nodded.

"Coffee sounds great."

She dimpled at him and quickly shut down her computer. As she was gathering up her coat and making her way towards him she tentatively stated, "You know, Booth, you're going to be alright."

He smiled easily at her, eyes shining with affection. He nodded as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her firmly against his side.

"Course I am, Bones. I've got you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Getting _slightly_ better at the updating...thanks so incredibly much to nane and csi for their lovely reviews...and thanks to everyone else for reading!**

**Bones is not mine. Oh, the fun I'd have with it if it was...**

The rich, bitter smell of the coffee flooded her senses like perfume. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, allowing the aromatic drink to infuse with her brain and still her racing thoughts.

Booth held his own cup to his face, using the brightly coloured ceramic to hide the impulsive smile currently dancing across his lips. The tension was visibly leaving Brennan's body. Her shoulders relaxed and the creases smoothed from her brow. The tightness around her mouth seemed to soften, her lips looked more cheerful even though she wasn't physically smiling.

He hated how hard she worked, how she never seemed to be able to stop pushing herself. He knew this case was getting to her and it frustrated him that his bewildering involvement in it was increasing her anxiety. But the hot, familiar drink appeared to be soothing her fraught nerves. One of the few things that made him happy, truly, deliriously happy, was seeing his Bones content. If that wasn't possible, then seeing her relaxed was the next best thing.

It took a few minutes for the intoxicating drink fumes to release Brennan from their spell. Eventually she opened her eyes slowly, shaking her head gently as though to buffer the hazy aroma rising from her steaming mug. All Booth could do was stare at her. He was actually rather proud of himself that he wasn't draped across the table, jaw hanging slack, panting like a dog. He nodded admiringly to himself. It really was an incredible display of self-restraint on his part.

The fog clouding Brennan's thoughts cleared and she focused her gaze on her partner. Booth gulped audibly. Maybe it was just the effect of the steam rising in front of her face or the fact that she had hidden her eyes from him for such a length of time, but he could never remember her look being so direct…so sparkling…so…blue. He had a sudden unbidden image of the brown of his eyes mixing with the intense blue of hers, much like the swirling drink she was now absently stirring with a tinny metal spoon… He snorted and hastily took another gulp. Damn voodoo coffee.

Brennan gave him an inquiring glance, her eyes playful and relaxed. Booth shrugged in answer to her unasked question and she nodded in acceptance. Neither seemed to realise the fact that they were now so close that many of their exchanges could be completed silently, words being irrelevant. They had reached a level of intimacy where their unspoken thoughts were often more than enough to communicate their feelings to one another.

Booth broke the silence first, "So…"

Brennan nodded silently. Minutes of suffocating uninterrupted quiet passed, pregnant with all of the unspoken grievances rushing around the pair's minds.

The tension finally got to Booth and he slammed his fist down on the table. Brennan jumped clean out of her chair, the last few drops of coffee splashing her surprised face.

She hastily settled herself back down and leaned across the table conspiratorially, hissing "Booth!" as she moved her upper body forward.

He sighed heavily and buried the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He moved his tired fingers up to run across his eyebrows, stretching the skin taut. With a grunt, he settled his arms back on the table.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to…it just…GETS to me, you know?"

She nodded sympathetically and slid a hand across the table. She rested her cool fingers on top of his before he had a chance to realise what she was doing. The contact of her skin on his sent a bolt of electricity through his being, right down to his very core, and he jumped back reflexively.

Brennan pulled her hand back, stung. She had only been trying to help. He didn't have to… She never had a chance to finish this thought as Booth suddenly moved his hands across the tabletop and rested them firmly and possessively over her own. She raised her eyes to meet his.

"Sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to…I just…I'm nervous…."

Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline and a surprised, though teasing, smile lit up her face.

"I make you nervous?"

She felt his warm hands jerk slightly at her words. He cleared his throat roughly.

"No, I…eh…I just meant, I'm nervous about the case…and I…"

He stared unblinkingly down at their hands and nodded once, almost to himself.

"The case…"

She smiled but didn't push it.

He groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Brennan immediately switched to her best sympathy face. She felt terrible for Booth. The poor guy was taking it so hard.

"Two down…" he croaked, shaking his head in despair at the Formica table.

"Shh," she encouraged, knowing full well that it wouldn't stop him but she'd seen people use this particular tactic enough times to know that this was what was traditionally done when someone was getting themselves worked up.

"Ten more to go," he whispered, his fingers suddenly gripping tight to her hands, the fingernails digging into her skin, causing a quiet gasp to escape her lips.

Deciding that toughness was the best course of action to take, Brennan shook off Booth's hands and crossed her arms firmly in front of her chest.

"Yes, Booth, two girls are dead. I'm sorry we couldn't save them but, really, there was nothing we could do. You're going to have to toughen up and forget about it and, more importantly, forgive yourself if we're going to have any chance of helping the others get through this alive."

She thought she'd gone too far. For one brief, insane moment she thought he was going to reach across the table and hit her. Then, as suddenly as the idea flared in her brain, the fight seemed to leave him. The fire flashing in his eyes was extinguished and he seemed to retreat in on himself.

"Sorry. You're…you're right."

He sighed and looked up at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"But I never admitted to it, Bones, and if you say anything about it I'll deny it with my last breath."

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Booth."

He leaned back in his seat, chuckling at her laughing face. She nodded once at him then leaned back and stretched, a yawn briefly distorting her face. He glanced quickly at the fluorescent clock hanging over the counter.

"I think it's about time I get you into bed, Bones."

She choked in surprise and he nearly cried with embarrassment.

"No, I meant…your bed…no, what I meant _was_…I will get you home to YOUR bed and then I will go home to MY bed."

Grinning wickedly at his obvious discomfort, Brennan simply ducked her head and slid out of her seat. She threw down some bills, laughing quietly to herself that Booth's normal reaction of violently protesting at her attempt to pay for anything was noticeably absent as he dealt with his little slip of the tongue.

Not trusting herself to speak, she gathered up her jacket and bag and strode out the door. Heavy footsteps a few seconds later told her he had followed her. Without exchanging a word, the two fell into step as they crossed the car park in the direction of Booth's car.

"You know, Bones, technically it's not such a crazy idea me trying to get you into bed…"

She snorted and slapped her hands against her arms to buffer against the cold night air.

"I'd like to see you try, Booth."

A wide grin suddenly threatened to split his face in two. He didn't stop smiling for the entire journey. Well, Seeley Booth was never one to walk away from a challenge.


	9. Chapter 9

**I completely understand if nobody cares about this anymore...but it's annoying me that it's not finished so I'm gonna try and complete it. Have forgotten where I intended going with this, but hopefully I'll be motivated and inspired! Thanks to anyone who reads!**

**Bones doesn't belong to me. Believe me, I'd be gloating until I was blue in the face if it were.**

Brennan studied the smiling female face on the computer screen before her. Swallowing thickly, she glanced down at the sketch Angela had completed of the second victim.

"It's a match. Definitely a match."

Behind her, she heard Angela heave a sigh of relief. Some overly enthusiastic throat clearing hastily cut off the sigh. Smiling tightly to herself, she handed the sketchpad back to her friend.

"Very good, Angela."

She knew the struggle Angela faced. The artist had the mammoth task of trying to convert the wreckage of bones that arrived into the lab into something that resembled a human being once more. This was her job. Everyone, naturally, wanted to be good at his or her job. Unfortunately for Angela, when she did her job right, she successfully identified a cause for heartbreak and pain that what resonate through a family for years to come.

She met Angela's eyes briefly, as though trying to wordlessly convey to her that she understood just how horrific this task could be, then turned and faced the computer once more.

Brennan's eyes darted over the neatly typed words beside the smiling photo, lips moving silently as she processed the information.

"Samantha Jones, 23, lived at home with her parents, although she attended college where she majored in Chemistry. Parents reported her missing 2-3 weeks ago."

Booth had entered the room quietly while she was speaking. He took a few seconds to process what she had said, during which time he closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. He let out a frustrated sigh, causing both women to jump in surprise, as they hadn't heard him come in.

He smiled apologetically at the two of them before addressing the smiling girl's static face.

"If we've got a name, can we now get a date of birth? We're obviously convinced that she is…was…a Taurus…but we need to be certain. The…circumstances of the crime scene point in this direction also, but…we just need to know…"

His voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably.

Angela flitted her gaze back and forth between the two partners. Booth looked like a shell of a man. His shoulders were slumped, his face consumed by tiredness and worry. He looked exhausted. Brennan couldn't take her eyes off him.

Angela finally decided to break the suffocating quiet by hesitantly asking, "What kind of circumstances?"

Booth lifted his gaze to hers curiously and the pain clearly reflected there shocked her.

"You know, the circumstances at the crime scene." She clarified.

Booth nodded his head wearily.

Methodically, without inflection, he droned, "She was found with a red rose in her mouth…pushed between her lips…and…and there was an emerald pin fastened to her jacket." Rather needlessly he added, "All associated with Taurus."

Angela moved around Brennan and sat at the computer, clicking and typing to try and find Samantha's birth date.

To the backdrop of the gentle tapping of the keyboard, Booth moved over beside Brennan and murmured into her ear, "Because this letter didn't specify what day she was killed, we can't be positive, but if it follows his previous pattern, then it's a given that he killed her on a Friday."

His nostrils flared involuntarily and his stance stiffened at the very thought of the taunting letter. Brennan was hyperaware of her partner's movements and desperate to offer comfort. To his surprise as much as hers, she slipped a hand down between them and gently gripped his fingers. His breath caught painfully in his throat. After a couple of seconds, however, he recovered enough to squeeze back.

"Ok, so she was born on the 16th of May…which makes her a Taurus."

A slight crease appeared on Angela's forehead when no words followed her not-so-surprising revelation. She pursed her lips ever so slightly.

"Hey, guys, did you hear me? I said…"

She swung around in the chair. Forgetting completely what she was talking about, her gaze zeroed in on the clasped hands of the two standing behind her. A smile threatened to split her face in half. When she was absolutely positive that what she was seeing was indeed real, she lifted her eyes. Her grin, if possible, grew wider.

Booth and Brennan were staring intently into each other's eyes. A slight smile twitched on both pairs of lips and they seemed to be, unintentionally, leaning into one another. Some of Booth's weariness seemed to have lessened. Both seemed to be, somehow, glowing from within.

Angela cleared her throat loudly, chuckling softly as the pair jumped.

"Am I interrupting something? Do you guys need some alone time?"

The two looked at her, startled, and sprang apart. Without giving them time to answer, she moved in for the kill.

"Do you guys _love_ each other?"

Booth barked a hasty "No!" at the same time Brennan offered a thoughtful "Yes, I suppose so."

Angela nearly fell off her chair while Booth goggled at his partner.

"_What_?!"

Brennan glanced around, completely mystified.

"What? I've done some reading and it's perfectly natural to love people outside of the family circle. Strong feelings of affection are indicators of a love shared with another person that one spends a significant amount of time with. Friends, co-workers…"

"Soul mates…"

Brennan's forehead furrowed as she gazed at Angela.

"I _guess_…if such a concept actually existed."

Brennan glanced at Booth for reassurance. He hurriedly rearranged his face from the wildly ecstatic expression he had been sporting to a more sombre demeanour and nodded seriously once or twice.

Angela pursed her lips slightly as she smiled at him, causing Booth's cheeks to suddenly bloom with a bright rosy flush.

"Right, well, I…that's great. Thanks Angela. I…"

Understandably nervous about the gleam in Angela's eyes, Booth hastily spun on his heel and headed for the door. He caught himself just before he disappeared through the doorway, turned his head briefly, caught Brennan's eye and whispered, "Thanks Bones," before striding off.

"Right, well if we have the girl's identity then…. _what_?"

Brennan halted mid-sentence, raising her eyebrows at the little dance Angela was currently doing in front of the glowing monitor.

"Oh, nothing sweetie. Just, you know, that you guys are so heart-stoppingly, world-endingly, God-I-just-wanna-push-you-up-against-the-wall-and-have-my-way-with-you-right-here-and-now in _love_ with each other. But other than that, nothing."

Brennan let out a short gurgling sound, as though she'd begun to retaliate but then had thought better of it.

"Very funny, Angela. And "stoppingly" isn't even a word," she laughed airily as she reached around her friend to pick up the notebook she had left on the desk.

"Sure, Bren, focus on the important things. Right, so, honey, if you're not in love with him, then why were you researching the concept of love? Everybody knows what love is. It doesn't need explaining. Un_less_…you were getting nervous about the intensity of your feelings for Booth and were trying to rationalise them, like you always do. That sound about right?"

Angela didn't realise just how much she resembled Booth at that moment. Her self-assured stance and cocky smile were identical to those displayed by the F.B.I. agent when he felt himself to be in the right.

Brennan made a quick grab for the stationery in her arm. She quickly cleared her throat and smoothed her hair, trying desperately to distract from the fact that she'd almost dropped her notes in surprise at her friend's words.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Angela,"

With that, Brennan hastily scampered from the room before she could hear Angela's retort.

"Yeah, _sure_ you don't," Angela muttered as she switched the CPU to standby and picked up her sketchpad.

"But you're both gonna have to face up to it sooner or later or I, for one, will scream."


End file.
